Deirdre returned to the living room from the garden and changed the subject, “I’m hungry, Mrs. Engel.”

“In a minute, sweetie. Your porridge will be ready soon!”

The night, surprisingly, turned out to be a restless one. Then, the next early morning, Deirdre found herself woken up by a shrill commotion with Mrs. Engel’s best attempt at consolation thrown in. She rose, put on a coat, and pushed open her door.

The racket became clearer and sharper. It crashed into her ears. “For the last time, wh